Sam and Emily
by nightrose.spn
Summary: Sam knows he deserves the pain for himself, but it would kill him if his boyfriend ever raised a hand to their daughter. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Sam and Emily

**Author**: nightrose_spn

**Pairings**: Sam/Dean, Sam/OMC

**Rating**: PG-13

**Word Count**: 3633

**Summary**: Sam knows he deserves the pain for himself, but it would kill him if his boyfriend ever raised a hand to their daughter. AU.

**Notes/Warnings**: Based on herebutnotremembered's video. For pippenlove. Contains slash, wincest, angst, violence, language..

Sam. This is Dean. Call me.  
Sammy, you were supposed to come back.  
College is over, Sam, where the hell are you?  
I need you, Sammy. Okay? Happy? I admitted it. I need you back. I can't stand this.  
At least call, Sam.  
Call your big brother, you fucking asshole.  
Sammy, please.  
Why won't you come back, Sam?  
You promised you'd come back after school ended. Where are you, Sammy?

It's twelve. He never calls after twelve. This will be all the messages I get from Dean today. I tell my phone to clear my inbox. God, if Derek ever found them, found out that there were some man calling me, he'd be so furious. If he knew it was my brother…  
My hand drifts up. I'm touching the bruise under my left eye. It's sore.  
His voice in the back of my head tells me that I deserve it.  
It didn't start like this. When I met him, my first year of law school, Derek was different. He was handsome and charming. I remember loving to run my hands through the stubble of his blonde hair. I remember when he supported me. When my dreams were important to him, when he wanted us to build a life together.  
He reminded me of Dean.  
It isn't like that anymore. He works. I don't. I stay at home. He tells me, often enough, that it's only right. After all, I am the girl in the relationship.  
I'm not good at it, though. My upbringing didn't exactly involve the domestic arts. It makes him mad. I can't keep his dinner warm and the kitchen spotless, especially not with Emily running around underfoot.  
She's a good kid, though, my Emily. Just six months old when Jess died in that horrible fire. It hadn't been easy for two college kids to deal with having a baby, and when we lost Jess, people said I should give Emily up for adoption. I wasn't ready, they said.  
I was.  
Dean had been ready when our mother died. He was four. Ready for a lifetime of caring for a baby. I could be, twenty years later.  
I'd even found someone to love me and my little girl. Derek was happy to have both of us. He treated her like his own daughter. His little princess.  
Jess was the first person I'd been with before him, and he thought of her as a sort of surrogate. It was good I'd met her, good she'd had me so she could have our child, a perfect little girl for Derek and I to raise.  
Nowadays, it isn't like that. He thinks it's good that Jess is dead, so he can have what he wants. He hates that he's gay, that he can't be normal, but he tries his best. He has me at home, like a wife, while he goes out and earns money. Then he comes back and proves he's a man by beating me senseless.  
If I ever call Dean back, he'll know. He'll know how weak, how fucking pathetic, I am. It's bad enough that I'm with a man, but the thought of my big brother knowing that I'm letting another guy abuse me? That I let the training Dad gave us slide, that I just stand there and take it, don't return the punches or even scream for help?  
If I made noise, I'd wake Emily up.  
I can't contact Dean. I left for a reason, after all. I'm a sick freak. I deserve everything Derek does to me. Not just because I've led all the women I've ever loved to death, not just because I only barely managed to save Emily from the thing that killed Jess, not just because I'm weak.  
I'm in love with my brother. It makes my stomach turn, just thinking it. I'm disgusting. I had to leave. I had to get away from the consuming lust that was tearing me apart.  
Derek knows. That's why I deserve it. I told him, just like I told Jess. Hoping he could bring me absolution.  
That was when he started hitting me. I dropped out of law school after a few months of it. I couldn't put up with it anymore. It was too much stress, trying to stay in class and keep up with all his demands.  
"Daddy?" Emily says quietly.  
"Yeah, sweetheart?"  
"Is Derek gonna come home soon?" She never calls him Dad, even though he asks. He screams about that too. He thinks I'm poisoning her. Says I'm trying to keep his own child from him.  
"He'll be home tonight, Emily. But you gotta go to bed now."  
It's eight-thirty, past bedtime. Derek's late again. That doesn't matter, though. I'm trying to keep her away from him. My worst fear is that he'll be violent to her, but I don't think he will. She's the only part of his perfect home life that's exactly the way he wants it to be. I'm not good enough, I don't fit into the box he's made for me. She's right and I'm wrong.  
I get her changed into her pajamas and tuck her in. She's good at going to bed, even though she's a really picky eater. "Kiss goodnight, Daddy!" she demands.  
I bend and press my lips to her forehead, then each of her eyes, then the tip of her nose, then her chin. Dean always used to kiss me goodnight just like that when I was little. I tuck the sheets up by her neck and smile. "'Night, sweetheart. See you in the morning."  
"'Night, Daddy!"  
When I get downstairs, Derek is sitting on the couch, his feet on the table, rifling through the magazines I'd put into perfect order early yesterday morning. I consider sneaking out, but clear my throat.  
"Hey, baby. I was just putting Emily to bed. Let me heat your dinner up, it'll just be a second."  
I know it won't work. And it doesn't.  
"What the _fuck_ is on your phone, Sam?"  
Shit. I cleared that out, didn't I? The messages from…  
"There's a text message from your _brother_. He 'just wants you back, Sammy.'"  
He literally spits the nickname in my face, and it makes something fundamental inside me shrivel and die. I sob a little. That's Dean's. He can't call me that. He can't have that. He can break the rest of me but that name is Dean's, it's not his to twist and destroy.  
"You're disgusting, Sam. You know that."  
"I do." I look down. "Should I go warm up dinner, honey?'  
"The fuck? I work for nine hours to keep you and your kid fed, and you don't even have my dinner ready for me when I get home?"  
"I'm sorry. Emily was-" I always have an excuse, and it never does any good. This time, though, it's worse than it's ever been before.  
"You think I give a damn what that little whore was doing?" I gasp aloud. He's never called my daughter a name before. Never hurt her in any way. "Maybe you want her to take the blame, huh? Want me to go beat her tiny little ass instead of yours?"  
"NO!" I can't help the immediate protest. "Derek, no, please. Don't hurt her." I'd fight him. I'd stop him with my life if I had to, to protect her.  
He seems to consider it for a moment. Then he shrugs. "Okay. Guess I can just hit you."  
And he does. At the end, I'm lying on the floor, bleeding from three places.  
"Go get dinner ready, slut. And for God's sake, wipe off the floor," he hisses.  
So that's the night I leave.  
Derek eats his dinner. I don't have an appetite. I tell him I'll be up to bed soon, but fortunately he's asleep by the time I've cleaned the dishes and tidied the living room. I'm pretty sure I'm too badly beaten to lie back and let him fuck me the way I usually do.  
It's midnight, as good a time as any for danger. I tiptoe to Emily's room. She's fast asleep. In her closet, buried under a spare set of pink sheets, are two suitcases. I pick them both up and carry them to the car.  
Then I go back in. She stirs just a little bit in my arms. "Daddy?" she mumbles in her sleep.  
"Shh, sweetheart. We're gonna go for a little ride."  
"Okay."  
"Go back to sleep."  
She nods, a child's perfect trust, and rests her head back on my chest. I bring her down the stairs silently.  
Just as I'm closing the door, I hear Derek's footfalls beside the bed. "Sam? Where the fuck are you?"  
I close my eyes and put Emily down in the car. "Be quiet, sweetie. I'll be back in a second," I whisper. Then I head back inside. "I'm here, Derek. We ran out of coffee. I'm gonna run to the convenience store so there'll be some for you in the morning, all right?"  
"Better be," he hisses. "I'm going back to bed."  
"All right. Sleep well." I hear as he lapses back into the stupor I'm sure is at least a touch drunken. After all, how often is he sober?  
Emily's asleep in the back. I carefully tuck her in. There's a six-pack of Coca-Cola in the glove compartment. I crack one open so I know I'll stay awake and press the gas into the floor. If I drive through the night and the day tomorrow, I'll be safe. Emily will be safe.  
It's long and boring. I keep the radio off whenever Emily's sleeping, which is fortunately often. When she's not out, she's asking question. "Why'd we leave?" "Where are we going?" "Is Derek gonna meet us there?"  
I can't do this on my own. I realize that after sixteen solid hours of driving. I pull into a crappy little motel, ask for a single bed. I get some funny looks, a grown man with a little girl, but the lady behind the counter sees the bruises on my face and gives me a motherly smile and the key. I put cartoons on for Emily and collapse. For tonight, we're safe, but Derek has access to my accounts. I never ran credit card scams or hustled-the money was always Dean's job. I didn't finish law school or take the bar exam. I can't work some steady job, because I have to look after Emily.  
I can't do this on my own. Derek's looking for me, I'm sure. I can't just walk away with what's his.  
Emily's eating peas and macaroni I'd found at a diner right near the motel. She'll be four in two weeks. I want her to have a home by then. I want her to be safe, by the time she'll be old enough to understand, to remember, that she ever wasn't.  
It's raining hard outside in the morning, when I wake up. I thank the lady and get back in the car. The first thing I do is get out my cell phone.  
My hands shake as I dial the number.  
"Hello?"  
At the sound of his voice, everything breaks inside me. I start to sob, only managing the words, "D…Dean, it's… it's… Sam," so he'll know it's not some random stranger prank-calling him. Just his pathetic little brother.  
"Sammy? What's wrong?"  
"I… I'm so sorry. That I…"  
I hear relief in his voice. "That you didn't come back?"  
"Yeah. I swear… I swear I'll tell you why, Dean. I just want to do it face to face."  
Emily chirps, from the backseat, "Daddy, are you okay?"  
"Who's that?" Dean asks.  
"Dean, I want you to meet someone. This is your niece, Emily." I hand her the phone.  
"Hi!" she babbles excitedly. "I'm Emily and your brother is my daddy. I'm almost four years old and I want a bike for my birthday and my favorite color is pink. Are you Dean like from the stories my daddy tells me?"  
I can hear him laugh from the cell phone's speaker.  
They talk to each other for a while, Emily's small voice at a ridiculously high pitch. It makes me smile as I start up the car and head… somewhere. "Sweetie, can I have the phone back?"  
"But _Daaad_, I'm talking to Uncle Dean!"  
"I need to, Emily. I'm sorry."  
She hands it over, pouting. I smile. "Dean?"  
"She's amazing, Sammy. Why didn't you tell me?"  
"I swear I'll explain. Do you… where are you? I'm in North Carolina. Near Raleigh?"  
"Stay there. I'll meet you."  
I give him detailed directions and then wait. It isn't easy to sit in the car, knowing that when he gets here I'll have to tell him. He'll want to know, he'll demand to know, and then he'll hate me once he finds out, but I owe this to him. I can't not tell him. I can't leave him in the dark.  
He deserves better than what I've given him. Better than who I am. Dean deserves better than me, and Emily deserves a better father than me, but I can't change who I am. I can't make myself good enough.  
I wonder if I'll ever believe how truly sorry I am.  
Dean shows up by dinnertime. I hear the Impala before I see it. Then I see him. I keep my eyes down, so he won't see the desolation of my face. I feel the door open, a fist in my shirt dragging me from the car so he won't scare Emily as he rages at me.  
Dean's good with kids.  
"You asshole. You selfish, greedy, stupid son-of-a-bitch. I didn't know if you were fucking alive or dead for seven years, and… Sammy, fucking look at me!"  
I swallow deeply and slowly tilt my head up.  
"Sammy?" he whispers, tracing the bruise on my cheek carefully. "Sammy, what happened to you?" The change in his behavior is sudden. His anger is gone, disappeared, replaced with simple, pure love and concern.  
"I… should… When I was in my sophomore year, I had a girlfriend-Jessica. We were… we were pretty serious. She got… pregnant, and… Emily's our daughter. After… I… Oh, God. Dean, Dean I'm…" I shiver as I take a breath.  
"What is it? Sammy?" he's stepping towards me, all kinds of earnestness in his eyes.  
"I'm gay."  
"Oh." Dean shrugs. "Hey, I've never been one for denying half the population the joys of Winchester love… though it does raise some questions about how you wound up with a girlfriend and a kid."  
"I… Dean?"  
He's closer, now, like he's about to reach out to touch me again. "Sam, is this why you stayed away so long? You thought… what? I'd hate you? Not be able to look at you? Or was it Emily? You thought I didn't want to meet my own niece? That perfect little girl?"  
"Dean, Jess died. She burnt to death on the ceiling the night Emily turned six months old."  
"Oh God."  
"It was the thing that killed our mother and I ended it before it could get to my daughter." I fully expect rage for this as well. I should have told him. He doesn't answer, though. "After I… I met this guy. Derek. And he… seemed perfect. And…"  
"Sammy?" He's talking to me like I'm a child after a nightmare. Slowly, he steps towards me and wraps me in his arms.  
"I told him… everything. About me, about how I kill every woman I love, about how… God. I told him. And he… he started to… I deserved it. I'm not mad at him or anything, but he threatened Emily yesterday night and…"  
I'm sobbing into my big brother's shoulder, and I feel the shame on my skin. I should be a man. Be stronger.  
Dean shoves me back. His eyes are full of rage and I start to shake. Before I can think it through I scream, "No, please!"  
"Sammy?"  
"No, don't, please don't, Dean, don't hurt me…"  
The fire in his eyes cools and he pulls me closer. "Oh, God. Sam, I wasn't gonna hurt you. I'll never hurt you, baby brother. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at him. I'm mad at myself."  
"Why…"  
"I failed you. If you ever thought, for one second, that I would rather you stay with an abuser than come where I could help you, for _any_ reason, then I failed."  
"Oh?" My laugh is loud, mocking. "How's this for a reason?" I bend my head down a bit and kiss him quickly. It's just a half-second brush of lips, but it's bliss, perfection.  
Before he can react, Emily stirs, calling out for me, and I open the door of the Volvo to let her out. "Sweetie, this is your uncle Dean," I say.  
"Hi, Emily." He bends down to smile at her, grateful that he doesn't have to keep eye contact with me.  
She looks up at him, a moment's confusion evident, and then enfolds him in a hug, her little arms not reaching around his back. He scoops her up and laughs. "Dean!" she squeals. "De!"  
I used to call him that when I was little.  
Then she purses her little lip. "No. Not De. De-de. Like Daddy." That sounds right to her ears and she smiles and nods. "De-de."  
My heart swells, though I know Dean won't stay long. He lets us pile into the Impala, loads our stuff up, and tells me we should drive away from the car unless Derek has it tracked. I nod, though I wonder how Emily and I are supposed to keep going after he leaves.  
We stop late that night. Emily is asleep, and Dean asks if it's okay for him to carry her inside. I nod. It seem so perfect, my peaceful little girl against the strong chest of the man I love. I just wish it could last.  
He takes his time, tucking her in carefully, before he speaks into the awkward silence of the room. "Sam, I know this is your line, but… we need to talk."  
"No shit." I shrug. "Lay it on me. Tell me how much you hate me. Call me a sick freak. Let me know that you never want to see my face again. I deserve it. I've heard it before."  
Dean snaps, "Can we not talk about him, okay?"  
"Okay." I bite my lip. I want the last conversation I'll ever have with my brother to be as peaceful as possible.  
"Sam, I… I need to say this first. I know it's… not the kinda thing I usually say, but… I love you." He looks down at the table. "Maybe that's why I drove you away, let you think I could live without you, that I could ever hate you. I… I love you too much, Sammy. I… I want you. I don't know why, I don't usually like men, but I want you."  
"Fuck," I whisper, pressing my hands flat against the table as I stand. "Dean, you don't have to do this, okay? You want me back in your life, despite everything? You want Emily with you? I'll take it and be grateful. I can be just your brother, Dean. It's more than I've hoped for for a very, very long time."  
"You idiot," he replies. "Sit back down." Startled, I obey. "You think I'd lie about something like that? Sam, you're the only person I've ever loved. Okay? Ever. Dad, well… I obeyed him, but… you're my life, man. You're everything. I want you. I want you and I love you and I need to keep you safe. So, I'm asking… will you stay? Let me be your brother, your lover, your daughter's father? Please?"  
"Y…yes," I say. Selfish. Selfish to take this, but also impossible to deny everything I want. "Dean…"  
"And for the record? That bastard had no right to hurt you. I know you think he did, but there's nothing wrong with you. Just because the demon… something evil hates you that much… it's actually a good thing. And loving me… Sam, I'm damn grateful for that." He smiles. "Come to bed, Sammy?"  
I'm a little worried. Will I be good enough? But all Dean does is kiss me gently and wrap me up in the blankets and the curve of his body.  
I look over at the other side of the bed. Emily's eyelashes fluttering against the pillow, Dean's warmth spooned behind me, my own heart pounding, Derek thousands of miles behind me, all I can think is that this is happiness. I know I have a long way to go. I know I have not changed, and that in the morning I'll be full of baggage and angst once again, but right now all I feel is peace.  
This is what I've always wanted. Someone to complete my family. Someone who's always been missing. Someone to love me and Emily both.  
"Love you, Dean," I whisper, and he kisses my neck and smiles, two actions I feel rather than see.  
"Love you, Sammy. You're safe here."  
In the morning, that'll embarrass me. When Emily needs breakfast and has an ungodly amount of energy for six A.M., when Dean is cranky and I've had nightmares of being beaten by a drunk into our kitchen floor, I'll blush remembering the words, but right now I just say, "I know," and drift to sleep as Dean cradles me close, like something precious, like something good.  
I could swear the way Emily smiles in her sleep is a little mocking, a little knowing, and a lot delighted.  
It won't happen in a moment, but happily-ever-after starts here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Sam and Emily

**Author**: nightrose_spn

**Pairings**: Sam/Dean, Sam/OMC

**Rating**: PG-13

**Word Count**: 7000

**Summary**: Sam knows he deserves the pain for himself, but it would kill him if his boyfriend ever raised a hand to their daughter. AU.

**Notes/Warnings**: Based on herebutnotremembered's video. For pippenlove. Contains slash, wincest, angst, violence, language..

I wake up alone. My eyes dart around the room, terrified from the nightmare I'd been having. I can still see the flashes of the images.  
Derek's face.  
The bottle.  
The outside of our house.  
Me, inside, waiting.  
Derek's face.  
I'd woken with silent tears running down, hoping Dean would be there to offer comfort. He's not. Dean and Emily are gone. I can't find them—they aren't here. I pull my knees in to my chest and let another sob escape.  
That's when the door to the motel room opens.  
"Sammy?" Dean whispers, putting the bag of bagels and Emily down on the floor. "Are you okay?"  
Emily's eyes are wide. She pulls on Dean's sleeve. He bends to her and she whispers something in his ear. I can't catch the words.  
"You're right, Emily. I'll do it right now." He smiles at me. "Sam, Emily says I need to tell you something."  
"What is it?"  
"I was wrong to leave you here by yourself and I apologize for… what was it, sweetie?"  
"For hurtin' his feelin's and makin' him sad!" Emily explains irately.  
"For hurting your feelings and making you sad. I'm very, very sorry and I hope you forgive me." His words are quite sincere, even though he has a mocking expression, and his hand is in Emily's soft, dark hair.  
"An' you haveta tell him you love him!" she adds, obviously frustrated. This is patently obvious, and she can't understand why Dean doesn't get it—after all, he's much, much bigger.  
"I love you, Sammy," Dean parrots obediently. "And I got you breakfast."  
I smile. I can't even help it, it's just an involuntary reaction, dimples splitting my cheeks, teeth showing. I can't remember the last time I smiled like this at anything but Emily. "Good. I'm hungry."  
When Emily is suitably distracted by donuts (I never let her have them, but Dean and I have always had very different attitudes towards nutrition), Dean comes to sit right beside me. He speaks to me in a voice low enough that she can't hear. "Sammy, are you okay? I really am sorry. I thought you'd like to have something to eat, and Emily was getting restless."  
"I'm fine."  
"Bullshit." I smack his arm lightly for the swear in front of Emily, but I know she can't hear. "You had a nightmare, didn't you? You were crying when I came in."  
"Yeah," I admit quietly. "I did."  
"I won't leave again. Promise." He touches my cheek gently. "Sammy, we gotta figure out what we're gonna do from here on out."  
"I think we should wait? Until Emily's sleeping," I suggest quietly. "It'll be easier then." I don't know what's going to happen, what he's going to say, what he wants of me.  
"Okay." Then he grins. "Emily, wanna go to the park?"  
She matches Dean's smile. I'd never noticed they were similar before. They have the same full lips, the same perfect teeth, and the same shining eyes.  
"Can we, Daddy?" she asks. "iPlease?/i"  
"Sure. But it'll be a different park than the one we usually go to." Her friends won't be there. She'll probably never see them again. I know it doesn't matter in the long run, that Billy and Harriet and Claire would have been forgotten by her tenth birthday anyway, but it isn't fair to rip my child away from everything she's ever known. I shake my head, shake those thoughts away. Derek would have hurt her, and I can't let that happen.  
She claps her round little hands and smiles. "Yay! I like new places. We've seen a lot of new places in the last couple of days, Daddy."  
"We sure have, sweetheart." Tentatively, I ask, "Is that okay? Things are changing, baby. I know it might be scary…"  
"A little. But it's fun, too!" She's laughing, happy. I feel something inside me change, shift, and a little of the guilt I've had starts to melt away. Dean's hand comes down to my shoulder, still gently, always gently, and I relax into the touch. I start to feel like everything will come together. Like we will be able to build a new life together. Me and Dean and Emily.  
"All right, sweetheart. Let me get this cleaned up." There is a huge mess of brown crumbs around where she'd eaten and a ring of chocolate surrounding her lips just beneath the milk moustache.  
I stand up and start to clean up around her. I wipe the area down thoroughly. I'm then abruptly reminded of how I used to have to do this to every surface in the house. If there was a crumb anywhere, Derek would fly into a rage, even if it were one of the rare nights that he was completely sober. My hands shake as I lift the wet paper napkin off the table.  
"Sammy? You okay?"  
Emily explains, in a confidential whisper, "Daddy gets scared sometimes."  
Before I can get my emotions back under control, Dean has run over to me and is holding me tight to his chest. He doesn't say a word, just hugs me close, keeping me pressed against him until the trembling subsides. Then he carefully pries the napkin from my hand, throws it away, and washes Emily's dishes.  
Emily looks up at me. "Is Dean your Daddy?" she asks.  
"No. He's my…" I bite my lip, unsure of whether to tell her. Then I decide that our little girl will have enough lies in her life. She can figure it out when she's old enough. "He's my big brother."  
"Oh. I just thought, 'cause he takes care of you. Like you take care of me." She takes my hand in hers, barely managing to make it around two of my fingers.  
"Well, brothers take care of each other just like parents and children sometimes," Dean says from his place behind the counter.  
"And from now on, me and Dean are both going to be taking care of you, little one," I add, pressing a fingertip to the end of her nose. She giggles. "C'mon. Let's get your shoes on."  
As I'm bending to fasten her shoes, Dean says softly, "You mean that, Sammy?" I'm distracted by pink laces so I'm not sure what he means. "I really get to help take care of her?"  
"If you want to," I answer simply.  
His answer is just as straightforward. "I do."  
Emily interrupts, chirping happily. "Then we can be a family, like for real! That's how Hannah's family is. She has two daddies and they love each other and they love her." She interrupts her own rant with a tentative question. "De-de, do you love me?"  
He grins. "'course, sweetheart." Dean and I each take one of her hands, swinging her up in the air. She laughs as we carry her to the Impala, pink shoes dangling loose in the air. Our little girl.  
The thought melts my heart.  
Emily keeps up a steady stream of babble the entire way to the park. "It'll be lots and lots of fun for us to go to a new park. And this time Daddy won't have to sit by himself on the bench like he usually does because it's usually all mommies at the park. He can talk to De-de. And that'll be fun. And when I'm not playing with anyone else you can both come play with me! I hope there's a slide. And swings. Lots of swings. There's always bigger kids on the swings at home and they never share nice. One of them made me cry once. But Daddy was there."  
"I'd've kicked some six-year-old ass," Dean mutters, and I smack his shoulder. "Crap. I mean I'd've kicked some six-year-old butt."  
I roll my eyes. "I was criticizing the idea of a grown man beating up a child, not your word choice."  
"Hey. No one gets to make my little girl cry. Isn't that right, Emily?'  
Emily shoots me an overly angelic grin and nods. "Daddy gave me a hug, though. Maybe Daddy does the hugging and De-de does the butt-kicking."  
Dean laughs so hard at that we nearly have to pull over.  
We find a small park a few miles down side streets, in a small suburban neighborhood. There are three mothers with Starbucks cups standing in a circle, and a grey-haired woman on a bench. Emily gives us a moment's acknowledgement with her goodbye wave before dashing off to try out the swings. There's a red-headed boy on the swing beside her, and I can see her flirting outrageously with him as she swings back and forth.  
I smile. The air is cool, a slight breeze blowing, and the sky is perfectly clear. I can't remember the last time I was this happy—if only I could believe it's all real.  
Just as I have that thought, Dean tangles his strong fingers with mine. I hear a low, deep voice rumble in my ear. "This okay, baby boy?" Gentle, reassuring, and strong at the same time. My big brother.  
I nod and squeeze his hand once.  
If I didn't know better, I'd swear that kid was laughing at us.  
Dean smiles and strikes up a conversation about nothing, one of his biggest talents. We wind up talking about movies for the whole morning. Emily loves to go to the theater. For a kid, she has ridiculously good taste. She doesn't like the awful new cartoon movies, so we go to the Triplex nearby that has weekly showings of classic Disney movies on the big screen.  
"When you were her age, you used to love Toy Story. You made me watch that damn movie so many times…" he sighs. "I think I still have it memorized."  
"Huh. Emily's favorite is The Little Mermaid."  
"Dude."  
"What?"  
"That movie is way too sketchy for a four-year-old. There's all these half-naked chicks, and…"  
I laugh. "Dean, she's four. She wouldn't know what was going on if it was hardcore porn."  
"As I recall, you didn't."  
"You were eight when I was four!"  
"And that's plenty old enough to take a healthy interest in sex. The motel was always in Dad's name, and he never noticed." Dean shoots me his patented grin. There's a hint of mocking and a little bit of devilish delight in his own naughtiness, but he looks so brightly happy that you almost have to believe he isn't up to no good.  
"You are an evil, evil person," I mutter.  
"Like you never did it."  
"I can honestly say I didn't."  
Dean's eyes widen. "I have failed as a brother."  
"Jerk."  
"Bitch."  
I bite my lip. iWhat the hell is wrong with you, you little bitch? Can't even do this, and it's all you're good for. Didn't I just tell you to get on your fucking knees, Sam?/i In my head, Derek takes another swig from the beer bottle.  
"Sammy? Oh, God, Sam, talk to me. You okay?"  
"I…" I can't even tell him. "I'm sorry. I just…"  
"C'mere." He pulls me by our joined hands into his arms. "You don't have to be sorry. Just… you wanna tell me what that was?"  
"No."  
"Okay." He holds me close. "Okay."  
Emily bounds over, hair blowing in the wind. "Hungry," she declares, oblivious to the moment she's interrupting, and Dean chuckles.  
"Well, can't have the princess hungry. We can go get burgers for lunch."  
I sigh. "Dean, you're going to make my kid obese."  
"Live a little, wouldya? Besides, I picked your food out and you're just fine."  
I roll my eyes at him and he grins back at me. Emily claps her hands. "I want burgers!"  
That settles the matter. I've been voted down.  
Dean orders some monstrosity with bacon and cheese for himself. I get Emily the smallest Kid's Meal, and a grilled chicken sandwich for myself. She is beyond delighted to have French fries, since I'm usually pretty strict about the kind of food I let Emily have.  
She regales us with the life story of her new friends over lunch, which is eaten at the plastic booths bolted to the floor. "Daddy, De-de, there's something I have to tell you," she finally declares as Dean's wrinkling up the empty papers and wiping off the table.  
I look down at my feet, worried.  
She lowers her voice to the most conspiratorial of voices and says, "I've got a iboyfriend/i."  
"So do I," Dean whispers in response. I find that an insignificant reaction.  
"She's four years old! Emily, you can't have a boyfriend."  
She pouts out her lower lip. "You can't stop me. Me 'n Will love each other and we got married itwice/i already so there ha!"  
I close my eyes in a sudden burst of despair. Fantastic. Well, at least she can't be impregnated at four.  
"De-de thinks it's okay, doesn't he?"  
"Sure I do, baby girl." I shift away from him, hurt by his betrayal. "As long as you don't kiss him or anything."  
She wrinkles her nose. "iEw./i That's disgusting, De-de."  
Dean gives me a satisfied smile and I blush, pulling back into my space at Dean's shoulder.  
Emily spends the afternoon drawing happily on a pad of paper. She makes the endearing stick-figure families that I remember from my own (dysfunctional) childhood, clearly labeled with the names of each of us in this run-down motel room. Emily doesn't notice her shabby surroundings, she's too entranced in her coloring. Fortunately, I'd thought to pack her drawing supplies.  
Dean and I play along with her. She asks us to do the writing, and we end up spending the minutes before dinner teaching her how to write our names beside her own. I'm just showing her how to shape the "e"s in Dean's name when he announces, "Dinner's ready!"  
I honestly hadn't noticed he'd gotten up to cook, I was so entranced in teaching my daughter. I feel a flash of guilt. Dean doesn't have to do this for us. My own problem. Dean shouldn't have to take care of us.  
"Mac and cheese. I had some in my duffel for an emergency meal if I couldn't find an appropriate crappy diner."  
It tastes just like it did when I was four. Fake and packaged and filling and good. I eat the whole bowl. Emily just picks at hers. "Not hungry."  
"You sure, sweetie?" Dean asks.  
"She ate a lot at lunch," I point out. "More than she usually does. I'll take hers."  
"You always were a slut for my mac and cheese, Sammy."  
Emily looks up from her half-empty bowl. "What's a slut?"  
Dean hisses another swear under his breath. "Sorry, Emily. De-de has a little problem with saying words he's not supposed to, and that's one of them. Don't repeat it, okay?"  
She nods solemnly.  
"Or else De-de will get in ivery/i big trouble," I add firmly.  
Dean darts a worried glance at me. Well, it won't hurt him to learn to watch his mouth a little.  
After the food is gone, Emily having been coaxed to finish her portion, we put Emily to bed on the couch. She's little, she fits easily. All three of us on the king-sized bed had been a little tight last night. I squash any thoughts of sleeping in my brother's arms. I know he won't want that again.  
Dean offers to sing her a lullaby while I clean up, and I agree. I can hear his low, sweet voice from across the room.  
Who the hell sings Metallica to a four-year-old as a lullaby? Still, I can't help but smile.  
Beyond everything else, I'd missed Dean, my big brother, with his dirty mouth and his constant quiet singing and the mac and cheese I loved more than anything else when I was a kid.  
I pile up the three plastic bowls that I was carrying in my own suitcase and Dean's silverware—we have so few possessions, and most of them are stolen. The bowls are from the kitchen I shared with Jess, and Dean's silverware came from a diner when I was nine and he was thirteen.  
I turn the water up all the way hot, stopping up the sink. There's a cake of soap. I rub it between my hands until there's enough to make bubbles. I dip the first fork in, trying not to think. I'm trying to just do the menial task and not think about all the times that Derek would rifle through the cupboards, one eyebrow raised, searching everything for the smallest spot. Trying not to remember all the times he found some flaw, and all the times he beat me near-senseless for them.  
Too late.  
I finish my task, ignoring the tears falling down into the water, adding salt to the mix.  
"She's asleep," Dean says, and then sees that I'm crying. "Sammy? Sam, are you okay?"  
"I… I… My… Derek used to… It was my job to do the dishes and… if I didn't do it right…"  
Before I can finish, he hugs me close. "Shh. You don't have to tell me, Sammy. You don't have to say it." He takes a slow, deep breath… I can feel it. "He'd hit you, wouldn't he? He beat you."  
I can't give confirmation, but Dean takes his answer from my silence.  
"Shh, baby. I know it's hard. I'm here, okay, I'm here for you…"  
Dean holds me close to him until the tears dry on my face.  
"Sorry, Dean…" I whisper into his jacket.  
"Don't, Sam. You don't have to apologize to me, baby. You have every right to be scared. Just know that I'm here for you."  
I keep my head on his shoulder. "Thank you," I reply.  
"'s my job."  
Slowly, my heart sinking into my churning stomach, I say, "Dean… I know you think that… because I'm your brother, you have to. But you don't. You don't have to give up your life for me, and you certainly don't have to… y'know. Sleep with me. I don't… I don't… I don't want you to, to do anything you don't want to…"  
"Sammy, look at me?" he says gently. Immediately, my eyes snap to his face. He's smiling at me, a look in his eyes that makes something in me melt. "It's my job to take care of you. It is. And that's what I love best in the whole world. Taking care of you, of my baby brother. It makes me happy. It's what I want. I want to take care of you." He reaches out carefully and traces the line of my jaw. "I always wanted a family, Sammy. I used to dream about it, you and me settling down somewhere and adopting some kids. If… if you'll let me, I'd like to do that now. I can find a place. I can look after Emily, if you want to go back to school. We can put down some roots. I'll stop hunting."  
Before I can protest, he adds, "That's what I want. More than anything in the world. And I want… Sammy, damnit, I've wanted you for so long. Since you were eleven years old. I thought… thought I could never tell you. Thought you'd hate me."  
It's an out-of-character moment for Dean, to share his feelings this way, but somehow I don't doubt he's telling the truth. "That's what I thought, too," I say.  
"Bet that asshole telling you didn't make it any easier." Dean purses his lips. "Sam, what's that guy's last name?"  
"Huh? Oh. Derek Tennant."  
"And his address?"  
"Why do you need to know?" I ask.  
"So I can kill him." Dean states it with such matter-of-factness, like he's telling me he has to run to the grocery store.  
"Dean, you can't kill him."  
"Why the hell not?"  
"Because! You can't just…"  
"He ihit/i you, Sammy! He abused you. You're hurting, right now, because of him. I think I have every right to kill him!"  
I sigh. "Dean, please don't go kill him. You'll end up with a murder record."  
"Fine. Can I go beat up on him some?"  
I roll my eyes. "Sure. Consider it a birthday present for the past four years."  
He grins. "You're the best."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Sam and Emily

**Author**: nightrose_spn

**Pairings**: Sam/Dean, Sam/OMC

**Rating**: PG-13

**Word Count**: 10485 (All three parts)

**Summary**: Sam knows he deserves the pain for himself, but it would kill him if his boyfriend ever raised a hand to their daughter. AU.

**Notes/Warnings**: This is the last chapter. Hope you enjoyed. I'd really appreciate a review if you did-- and thank you so much for all the support I've gotten for this fic already! Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see me write, I take requests!

Derek's coming after us. I'm absolutely sure of it. He won't let me get away with this, won't let me take what he thinks of as his. And when he finds us, he'll take Emily and kill me. He'll probably come armed.  
I carry a gun now, like I used to when I was younger. Dad used to make me. I hated it then. I still do, now, but I understand I need one. To protect Emily.  
Dean's all for us going after him, getting him before he can get us, but I don't want to. It scares me shitless, frankly, the thought of my Dean going up against someone who's become the monster of every nightmare.  
The thought of him getting hurt. It makes my blood run cold, in a different way than my fear that Emily will be hurt. If Emily gets hurt, it would destroy me because she's my responsibility, but if it were Dean…  
He'd be getting hurt because of me. Because he thinks it's his job to protect me, even if it costs him everything.  
"That's it," Dean says to me over dinner. "I'm done with this."  
"What?" I panic. What'll I do after he leaves? What have I done wrong?  
"Listen, Sammy. This is tearing you apart. Let me call Dad. He can take care of Emily, and he wants to see you. He really does."  
Dean had avoided mentioning our father for the first few days, but then he'd begun to casually mention that Dad wanted to see me. I hadn't been ready then. Now… I think I've got it. I think I can. After all, it's not fair to keep Dean away from him, and I know my brother won't go anywhere I'm not.  
"Okay," I say, hesitant. My one fear is this. What if Dad really meant it? What if I'm not welcome in the family under any circumstances? If he's coming to order me away from Dean and Emily, sending me off on my own? After all, I did walk away. It's not fair to expect them to just let me walk back in.  
"Sammy," he starts, looking for the words to calm me down. Before he can soothe me, though, Emily clamors for her De-de's attention, and he has to go get her quieted down for bed.  
Fortunately, I've gotten better over the past couple of weeks. I can wash the dishes now without sparking a huge panic attack. Especially since Dean's right nearby, and if I started to cry, he'll be right there to comfort me.  
The knowledge stops the pain from starting in the first place.  
When Emily's asleep, Dean says, quietly, "Sam, Dad missed you. Not quite as much as I did, but a lot. And he regrets saying that to you- regretted it a long time before he knew about Derek. You gotta understand. He might rather die than say it, but he loves you."  
I bite my lip. I can almost believe it, but all the hundred of childhood arguments are echoing in my ears.  
"And, Sam?" He takes my hand in two of his. "Even if I'm wrong? If he tries to tear us apart? If he finds out about… you know, you and me, and freaks?"  
"Yeah?"  
"It won't make me leave, Sammy." His eyes are wide and earnest. "I don't want to have to choose, because I love both of you, but if it comes to a choice? I'm gonna pick you."  
"Thank you," I respond, because I can't think of anything else to say.  
"Anything, Sammy," he tells me, and it's a promise.  
We tidy up the rest of the room, talking about school and Emily, how we have to settle down before she's old enough for kindergarten. Dean and I only have one bed in the room. It's not like we use it for anything particularly exciting, but there's nothing I like better than falling asleep in his arms, except maybe Emily's smiling little face when she wakes me up in the morning.  
Dean calls Dad. I listen to the conversation. "Dad? Hey. It's Dean. Sammy's ready, if you wanna come to visit. We're at the Evergreen Motel in North Carolina. Uh, as soon as possible. Great! See you then."  
Dean clicks the phone closed. "He'll be here by lunchtime."  
I'm too tense about the visit to do much more than chase Emily around the room. We play tickle tag until there's a knock on the door.  
I get it, even though Dean offers. Dad doesn't look a bit different- he hasn't aged at all since the day I was born, I think.  
"Sir," I say quietly, looking down. Dad hesitates, and then drops his bag on the floor and hugs me tight.  
"Sammy."  
Wow. Who knew all it took was a little domestic abuse to revoke the man-cards of all three Winchesters?  
When we break apart, Dad says, "It's sure good to see you, son."  
I smile. "You, too." Surprisingly, it is. There's a softness in his eyes when he looks at me, something I don't remember from ever before.  
Dean walks over to us, Emily clinging to his leg. "Hey, Dad."  
"Dean." Then Dad notices the little girl. "And who's this?"  
"I thought Dean told you. This is your granddaughter. Emily."  
The look in Dad's eyes can best be described as awe. He bends onto his knees, so he's at eye level with the little girl. His voice is soft as he says, "Hey, Emily. I'm your grandpa, John. Sam and Dean's daddy."  
She pulls her face out of its hiding place in Dean's leg and smiles at him. It's the most disarming, innocent smile in her repertoire. She usually only uses it when she's in deep trouble. Dad's eyes widen. "Hi, Grandpa," she says, laughing as she tumbles away from Dean to practically chuck herself into his arms.  
After a second of confusion, he picks her up, spinning her around as she giggles manically.  
It takes a fair amount of time to get us all calmed down enough that we can sit peacefully around the table and have lunch. I've come to the realization that Dad really isn't here to ruin any part of my second change. He really just wants to be a part of it.  
And I'm more than happy to let him be. I've missed my father, just like he's missed me.  
"Sam," he says quietly, when we put Emily down for her nap. "I really am sorry that I said that stuff to you. I didn't mean it."  
"And I'm sorry I left." In the years since I started college, I'd come to realize what a mistake that was. I'd missed Dean so much at first that it had been crippling, but I'd missed Dad, too, even missed hunting. My whole life, and I had to leave it all behind.  
He smiles, not a common expression for him, and says, "Thanks, Sam. For giving me another chance. Especially with Emily."  
"She sure is something."  
"Uh, about that," Dean interjects. "Could you stick around? Watch her for a few days?"  
He bites his lip. "I'd like to, son, but the demon…"  
"I got rid of it," I tell him.  
"What?"  
"Dean didn't tell you? Emily's mom, Jess. It attacked her, just like it did Mom, killed her. I used a spell, and I don't know how, but it worked. It's gone."  
"Dead?"  
"I think so."  
Dad slumps forward, his head on his hands. It's a while before he can speak. I guess he's exhausted to have a burden he's carried for so long lifted so suddenly. Either that, or he's mad that I took his long-awaited revenge away. When he lifts his head, he says, "Sam?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Your mother would've been real proud of you."  
He asks how I'd done it, so we talk business for a while. Dean and Dad celebrate the victory over our ancestral enemy, while all I can feel is the relief that we're all together again. All happy.  
"In that case," Dad says, "Guess I don't have anywhere to be. Do I get to ask where you boys are going?"  
"Dean wants to go beat up my ex."  
"Oh. The one who hit you? Threatened Emily?" I nod, and Dad gives me a look full of the rage he usually reserves for the demon. "Good. Hell, I wish I could help."  
"Why don't you?" I suggest. "I'll stay here with Emily. You two can go." I don't want to admit that I'm afraid to be in the same state as Derek, let alone the same room. Rationally, I know he won't be able to hurt me, not if I really fight back. I never did before. I'd have a weapon and the element of surprise and Dean on my side.  
Still, my fear of him would incapacitate me. I wouldn't be able to take care of myself. I wouldn't send Dean and Dad in if I thought he was anything they couldn't handle. I wouldn't let either of them get hurt.  
"That's what you want?" Dean asks carefully. I shoot him a look, designed to tell him that I'm scared and don't want to tell our father, and Dean nods. "That's a good idea. We'll go kick his ass, Sam can stay here with Emily, and then you and I will come back and you can get to know your granddaughter."  
The plan agreed on, we wake Emily up. After getting her dressed, I explain carefully, "De-de and Grandpa need to take a little trip, okay? They'll be back, I swear. Real soon. I'm gonna stay here with you."  
She nods, and we wave to Dad and Dean as they drive away.  


* * *

  
Dean is nervous. It's been a long time since he's hunted with Dad, and more than that, he's worried that he's gonna lose it and kill this guy. As much as the asshole deserves it, he doesn't want to commit murder with his dad watching.  
He drives quickly to the address Sam had given them. It's a two-day trip, with a stop in a motel. It feels strange, trying to sleep without Sammy in his arms, but he figures he'll have to get used to it while Dad's around.  
Part of him is grateful Sam still isn't ready for sex, since he thinks the wanting would drive him crazy if he'd had Sam even once and then had to take a break. It's a very small part.  
Still, someday. Dean will wait forever if he has to, because in the long end, that's not a big deal. Sam is a big deal.  
They arrive at Derek's house at nine-thirty. There's a Volvo in the driveway. "Jackpot," Dad whispers. He looks vicious- Dean's almost afraid of him. "Sam described the car- he's here."  
Dean feels a matching smile spread across his face. God, he's really going to enjoy destroying this guy. "Dad, how much do you think we can beat up on him?"  
"I think Sam didn't want us to kill him." They both know there's a whole lot of pain in between meeting them and dying, so they're not worried. He's going to get what he deserves.  
"Okay. Should we bring weapons?"  
"I've got my gun. I think that should be enough to scare 'im. I'd rather do the beating with my own two hands."  
Dean nods. That sounds good to him.  
He can't imagine Sammy living in this house, he realizes as they walk up the driveway. It's too foreign, too normal, for his brother.  
He realizes that's because he doesn't want to imagine Sammy being with anyone but him.  
Still, he doesn't feel selfish. After all, if there's anything this guy deserves less than being with Sam, Dean wants to know. Maybe getting to be Emily's dad. Maybe.  
Dean snarls at the memory—that someone could have those two people in his life, the two most precious people, and mistreat them like that, not understand what a gift it is. Dean would gladly die for the privilege of being Sam's lover or Emily's father, and this jackass had both of those things and threw them away.  
Dean's going to have a hard time not killing him.  
Dad rings the doorbell. The man who answers isn't the monster Dean had expected. Not on the surface anyway. He's about Dean's height, very good looking, blue-eyed with shaved blonde hair. "Can I help you?" he says, politely.  
"Derek Tennant?" Dad asks with all a hunter's professionalism.  
"Yeah."  
"I'm Sam's father."  
"The one who kicked him out?" Derek asks, confused.  
Dad's face scrunches at that, and Dean can tell he's about to start a fight. "Not really. Anyway, we need to have a talk with you. Can we come in?" he asks. Dean's never been good at pretending to like people he doesn't, but he thinks he's done all right this time, especially given that he hates this guy like he's never hated anyone, not even the demon that had killed his mother.  
Derek shows them in and closes the door. "Can I get you a drink?"  
"That won't be necessary," Dean says.  
"I didn't catch your names."  
"I'm John Winchester, and this is my son Dean."  
Derek's pretty blue eyes widen. "Oh."  
That's when Dean remembers. Sam told this idiot about them—or, well, at that point, Sam's feelings for Dean. He really hopes it doesn't come up. Dean decides he's had enough making nice with the guy who destroyed Sammy. "Anyway. You're my brother's ex, right?"  
"His partner," Derek corrects, like there's the faintest chance he's still got any right to be in Sam's life. Dean glares at him.  
"I've come here, well… you and I have a little issue." Dean cracks his knuckles. "My baby brother called me crying from a motel in I'm-sure-not-telling-you-where. Talking about how he was sorry, so sorry, he shouldn't have called, but he needed help because you were hitting him."  
Derek looks down. "I…" he closes his eyes, like the admission is causing him pain. "I have a… a drinking problem and… and I get a temper… sometimes. I… I really lost it that night… Sam said he'd stay. That we could work it out together. I understand that he doesn't want to… I don't deserve him. But…"  
Dad gives Dean a look like he may actually believe this bullshit, given that John's had his own problems with booze in the past. Dean, however, sees right through it. "See, I came to get my little brother. He had a black eye and bruises all over. Some of 'em were months old. He cries every time he tries to do the dishes. He can't sleep at night for nightmares. You wanna explain that away with one bad night of drinking?"  
"Look, you think you know that kid?"  
"Sam? Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do."  
"You know the things he thinks about you?"  
Shit. Shitshitshit. "Yeah, I do. And I don't give a fuck. He's still my baby brother."  
"Which is exactly why it's disgusting."  
Dad is looking on now, confused and shocked. "Even if I agreed with you, doesn't give you a right to raise a hand against him. Nothing does. And to threaten Emily? She's four years old. She's a baby." Dean neglects to mention that he'd essentially become a parent at the same age. He turns to his father. "Can we kick his ass now?"  
"Sure."  
Derek looks terrified, but he doesn't get time to bolt before John grabs him by the collar so Dean can pop him in the face, a nice hard punch right to his nose. Then, just for the satisfaction, kicks him in the balls. John knees him there too, and then tells Dean, "Gotta make sure—this guy should not be having children."  
Dean laughs.  
There's a definite joy in it. Like hunting that thing that had gone around killing kindergarteners, a vicious pleasure in hurting something Dean knows down to his soul is evil. Just because Derek wears a human shape doesn't mean he isn't just as worthy of destruction as any monster, Dean realizes. And he doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty for the beating he administers.  
Derek's a fairly bloody heap on the floor by the time they finish. "Not gonna kill you," Dad says.  
"This time. You come anywhere near Sammy or Emily again, and I will personally make sure you are sent to hell where you belong. Understand?"  
He nods weakly and then slides into unconsciousness. Dean doesn't bother calling for an ambulance. They'll find him or he'll die. Dean doesn't particularly care either way.  
Dean and John get in the Impala and drive home to Sammy.  
On the way, Dad asks cautiously, "So, what was Derek saying? About you and Sam?"  
Dean bites his lower lip and looks straight ahead, over the steering wheel. "Sammy had… when he was figuring out he was gay, he kinda had a little crush on me. It was one of the things that made him go off to college. He told Derek, who blew it giantly out of proportion."  
Dad looks over at Dean, unsurprised. "So that why you two share a bed?"  
"What?"  
"Son, I have eyes. Seems to me, the way you two grew up, I didn't leave you much of a choice."  
"Uh. Well. He didn't tell me. Until after Derek. I had no idea. I thought I was the only one. Sammy told me, trying to explain why he deserved to have me leave him. God, he hated himself for it. But it's not like we're doing anything in the bed. Sam just sleeps better if there's someone there with him. He isn't… isn't ready for that."  
Dean realizes he's just admitted to his father that he's in love with his little brother.  
"So it is mutual, right?"  
"You think I'd do anything to Sammy that he didn't want?" Dean snaps, because even if this is pretty far away from normal, he'd inever/i hurt Sam.  
"Not what I meant, Dean. I meant… I know you'd do anything for your brother."  
Dean shakes his head. "No. I… I love him. More than anything."  
He waits, terrified, for judgment, but John just inclines his head. "Well, I guess I can trust you to take good care of him."  
Dean grins. "Yes, sir!"  


* * *

  
Emily and I have had a lovely, uneventful couple of days. I take her to the park every morning and watch her play with her boyfriend, gritting my teeth every time they touch. That little bastard is up to no good, I'm sure of it.  
Dean and Dad are only gone for three days. It's only enough time for me to have four panic attacks, since I have Emily to look after. I can't afford any more. I ply her with all manner of green things, hoping that she'll build up some vitamin stocks so when Dean returns she'll be vaguely healthy for the influx of junk food.  
When Dad and Dean get back, she practically jumps on top of the still-moving Impala. It makes me grin.  
They smile at me, totally unharmed. The first thing Dad says to me is, "He's alive. Sort of."  
The first Dean says is, "And he told Dad."  
I freeze. I should let Dean choose Dad, like I'm sure he wants to. I should let him go. But I can't. And I can convince him to stay. It won't be easy and it won't be fair to him. I'll have to use everything I can, tell him Emily needs him, remind him he's supposed to protect me…  
"Sam?" Dad asks.  
"Dean," I whisper. All my plans fly out of my mind, replaced by simple words. "Please don't go. Please."  
"Hey." He steps close to me, tilts my chin up, and says, "Dad's okay with it, man. He knew already, I think."  
"Really?"  
"You're my sons," and when Emily's catapulting into his arms, froning up at him, he corrects, "My family. Nothing more important than you."  
Dean takes my hand. The four of us, there, in a parking lot outside a crappy motel, with Dad and Dean in clothes that have seen three days' travel and an assault, with my ex-boyfriend bleeding on the floor of our house—I'm happy.  
It's, strangely enough, everything I ever wanted.


	4. Epilogue

**Title: **Sam and Emily

**Author**: nightrose_spn

**Pairings**: Sam/Dean, Sam/OMC

**Rating**: PG-13

**Word Count**: 10485 (All three parts)

**Summary**: Sam knows he deserves the pain for himself, but it would kill him if his boyfriend ever raised a hand to their daughter. AU.

**Notes/Warnings**: This is the last chapter. Hope you enjoyed. I'd really appreciate a review if you did-- and thank you so much for all the support I've gotten for this fic already! Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see me write, I take requests!

Dean and I buy a house in Massachusetts, because I'm going to go to school there. He'd had some words with the head of the law department at Stanford, who had then agreed, very enthusiastically, to transfer my credits with the highest praise to Harvard. I can graduate in a year.  
Emily's got a spot in a private school in a little white building covered in ivory. It looks like it stepped out of a fairytale. Dean stays at home most of the time, picks Emily up while I go to class. For the moment, we're living off Dad's credit card fraud, but soon enough I'll have a good job and I'll be able to provide for my little family.  
Dad hunts, but only sometimes. He'll go away for a few weeks at a time, but between hunts he always comes to pay a visit to us, his sons and his granddaughter.  
He's a much better grandpa than he ever was a father. I'm grateful for that.  
Emily's room is pink and white. She loves it. She really seems genuinely happy all the time.  
Me? I'm better. Functioning, at least. I don't flinch every time I see a beer bottle. I can accept that this is real, that it isn't going to disappear one day when I'm not paying attention. I trust Dad and Dean, and even myself on good days.  
And I have one person to thank for that.  
"Hey, Sammy!" Dean says, his whole face lighting up as I walk into our kitchen.  
"Hi," I reply, smiling down at him, striding over. He tilts his face up and I kiss him gently, letting one hand settle around his waist. "You cooking?"  
"Yeah. Enchiladas. Emily's upstairs coloring, if you want to go say hi to her. How was class?"  
"Good. Got an A on the last paper."  
He gives me a friendly older-brother slap on the shoulder and a contrasting kiss. "That's my Sammy."  
I blush at his praise and bound upstairs. My little girl, five next week, is drawing a picture. She tackles me when she sees me, wrapping her little round legs around my waist. "Daddy!"  
"Hey, sweetheart. What are you drawing?"  
She shows me. It's her family. Stick-figures labeled Daddy and De-de, holding hands (or rather with their arms connected), a little Emily between them, and Grandpa off to the side. My father's scruffy beard is easily identifiable.  
It makes me laugh. "Great picture," I tell her.  
"Will you put it up on the 'afridgerator?"  
"Sure."  
I pick it up and head downstairs. While I place a magnet atop it, Dean comes up behind me, winding his arms around my waist. He whispers, "I love you," into my ear, and I turn around, wrapping my arms around him in turn.  
"Dean? There's something I need to tell you."  
There's apprehension in his eyes, but he says, "Anything. I'm always listening, Sammy."  
"I…" I pull him closer. "I really appreciate you waiting all this time for us to be together. And I want you to know that… I'm ready now."  
His eyes brighten. There's no doubt in my mind anymore that he wants this, hasn't been for ages. And I've dreamt of this for years. I can't let my insecurities hold me back anymore from this. "Really?"  
"Really. Tonight, if you want? I want you."  
He kisses me full of sudden passion, until I hear a little voice from the top of the stairs, "De-de, I'm ihungry!/i"  
I laugh. "We'd better feed her."  
Dean scowls, but nods. I laugh again and help him plate the food. Dinner goes by quickly, a bright babble of everything that happened during another day. A normal day. A happy day.  
I tuck Emily in and kiss her on the forehead. She says to me, quietly, "Daddy?"  
"Yeah, sweetheart?"  
"You're not sad so much anymore," she tells me.  
"No, I'm not. Being with you and De-de and Grandpa makes me very happy."  
"I'm glad we're with them now." Her voice is full of solemness, that beyond-her-years wisdom I still haven't gotten used to in four years.  
"Me too, Emily. I love you."  
"I love you too. More 'n anything."  
I stay in there, watching until she falls asleep curled around the yellow bunny rabbit Dad brought her back from his last hunting trip. I rub her back as her breathing evens out, my hand as broad as she is from shoulder-blade to shoulder-blade, and smile.  
Dean's watching from the door. Like a guardian angel, watching over us, like he always has been. In the end, it all happens so naturally. We go downstairs and watch some bad T.V., have ice cream straight out of the container, and laugh together like we've been doing all this time. It seems to make perfect sense that he loops an arm around my waist and leads me upstairs just a bit before we get tired.  
When Dean whispers, "I love you, Sammy," into my ear, in the sweat-soaked silence of our bed, I find the perfect answer as I curl my hand around his.  
"I know," I tell him. "I know."  
I don't know why there was ever any doubt in my mind. I don't know why I let things get this bad. I don't know why I let Derek hurt me as much as I did. I don't know what wonderful things I did to deserve this much happiness, but I do know Dean loves me, almost as much as I know I love him too.  
I listen to his breathing, steady and gentle, and we fall asleep twined together.  
Nothing will ever tear us apart.


End file.
